Mummy Dearest
by ErisedWillow
Summary: After the war, Hermione found her parents in Australia and brought them home. Sometimes, they get "homesick" and visit. After they come back, her mother falls ill. Note: not a happy ending.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters/situations you recognize. They belong to their rightful owners; I'm only borrowing them. I'm making no money off this and never will.

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"Alright, Dear, we're going to have to make this quick… International calls are expensive. Our trip is going well. Sarah and Ian are allowing us to stay until we catch our flight back home. I hope it's an early one. Australia is _so_ far away. I can't believe they cancelled our flight. Anyway, Sweetie, we'll be home soon.

"Again, I'm sorry we didn't let you take us here and back home. You know how I feel about your gift. But I must go now. Your father sends his love. I love you too. We'll be home soon. I promise," Hermione Granger heard her mother say through the speaker.

Dr Matilda Granger had called her daughter at three o'clock in the morning. _Apparently has no consideration for time differences. Oh, Mum,_ she thought.

Matilda and Marcus Granger were in Australia visiting some old friends. It had been two years since the end of the war. Hermione was twenty. She had gone looking for them after the memorial services for the fallen and found them quite easily. Restoring their memories was difficult but it could be managed. Her parents still got "Australia-sick" as they would say and decided that the best cure for this was the go there during the summer.

That morning she had an interview for a position at Hogwarts teaching Charms. Professor Flitwick had decided to retire. Or take a rest from the job. He was still undecided according to Minerva (she insisted Hermione start calling her that). Until he did decide, they would need someone to take the position. It would be considered temporary.

It was a little strange having McGonagall fire-call her during her Muggle-job lunch break but that was how things went when you were connected to the Network. The only people to use it were Harry and Ron.

Hermione had chosen to step away from the Wizarding World. She needed to get her priorities back into order and find out just who "Hermione Granger" was. Since she was eleven, her whole life consisted of Voldemort and his defeat. Now that it was over, Hermione felt out of place. Her mother was pleased with her decision.

Not only did she want to rediscover herself (she was confident when she was ten) but she wanted to leave from all the intruding bustle of the _Daily Prophet._ They kept sending her owls, demanding answers to questions, trying to divulge the Boy-Who-Lived's secrets, hopes, fears, dreams, and the occasional love life and interests.

Stepping back into Muggle life was hard. Some wizards and witches considered it offensive. If she doubted it before, they made sure she knew. They send letter after letter, Howler after Howler, asking why she would betray Wizarding Britain after all she had done for them.

But it was her life. She could do whatever she pleased. And there was nothing she wanted more than get away from everything.

She didn't plan it as something permanent, just until things quieted down. Then she would "get a job at the Ministry, marry Ron, and have a thousand little Weasleys running around." George said it best. Ron wanted a family. Not just a family, but a _F-A-M-I-L-Y._

At this point in her life, Hermione wasn't ready to be thinking about children and Ministry jobs. She wanted to just go on living life as Muggle-y as she could.

But she could never stop using her magic. To do simple things like wash the dishes or difficult things like tame her Gryffindor lion's mane of hair. She protected her small house with wards and silencing charms and made it just a tad bit bigger on the inside than it was on the outside.

She had a room specifically for the practice of spells and charms. There would be neither vase breaking nor cushion ripping in her house. If anyone had said three years ago that Hermione was good at spells and charms, they would faint if they saw what she could do now.

And that's probably why McGonagall fire-called her asking for her immediate help. September first was just a few days away. Hermione would still have to make plans. She would be provided chambers, the textbooks she would need, and Flitwick's old lesson plans, that way she knew where the students were.

Hermione had agreed to an interview, which she knew would be agreeing for the job. She sent in her Muggle resignation and started packing her trunk.

Seeing as how she was already awake, though she missed her mother's call, she decided to continue packing and then get prepared for her interview.

Hermione wouldn't have admitted it but she was nervous. Truly nervous for this job. She had never thought she would ever teach. Granted, she pretended she was a teacher when she was little and when she got older, she gave it some thought. Where could a young witch find a teaching job? Especially when the youngest teacher at Hogwarts was old enough to be her father?

She would never admit to being frightened. She would not show it in her interview. Hogwarts was her second home. And now she was going to live there again. Doing what Hermione Granger does best.

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AN: This won't be a very long story, just a little plot bunny without a happy ending. I decided to split it by chapters instead of the "oooOooo" which sometimes can't be avoided, but can this time. I hope it doesn't annoy you; I'm sorry if it does. Feel free to tell me.

If you liked it, or disliked it, and want to review, go ahead. Constructive critism is welcome; after all, how can I get better without it?

I want to thank my best-friend beta (more like "alpha") reader. Any mistakes you see here will most likely be my own... a lost in translation type of thing. She also came up with the title.

Thanks for reading!


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: See Chapter 1

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"I'm so glad you agreed to this Miss Granger. I'm sorry it's on such short notice but I can't say that was what I intended," McGonagall quickly said. "Filius just decided to retire. Just decided. At least he left most of his supplies. It's for the best, I think. He seemed tense and jumpy. He definitely needed a break. I just wish he had let us know this was coming!"

"I'm sorry, Professor."

"Please, Miss Granger, Minerva."

The two women walked toward the Great Hall. Hermione had been invited for lunch and then she would finish packing her things and move in first thing tomorrow.

McGonagall had already shown her to her rooms, given her the password to get into them and her new office. McGonagall would show Hermione how to change the password once everyone was settled.

"Well, Minerva, I'm sorry he left so abruptly. I promise I'll do my best to adapt. It'll be nice working with magic in front of people again, not having to hide it."

"Yes, I guarantee it will," she said, keeping in front of Hermione as they walked through the hall.

The two women spoke no more until they reached the Great Hall and found their seats, Hermione unwillingly. She had to sit next to none other than Professor Trelawney whom, in Hermione's opinion, was still an old fraud more than half the time.

Still, she was glad to be rid of the silence. She hated silence with a passion. At her house, she always had to have something going, either the telly or the radio to keep herself from going crazy.

"Ah, Miss Granger… How nice to see you again… Is your mother well?" Trelawney asked.

Hermione opened her mouth to answer (curtly, no doubt), but McGonagall interrupted her. "How _are_ your parents? You found them in Australia, correct?"

"Yes, yes I did," Hermione said turning to Minerva, leaving Professor Trelawney hurt at the rejection. She did _so_ hope that she and Hermione would make it on better terms. "They're there visiting some of their old friends. I'll have to pick them up from the Muggle airport soon. We're hoping today."

"Now, can you explain to me how Muggle airplanes work?" McGonagall asked.

Hermione tried her best to explain but she lacked a working knowledge of planes and sky-travel. What she did know seemed to satisfy her former professor.

All of the teachers, excluding Trelawney and Hagrid, bombarded Hermione with questions about Muggle things… Clothes, customs, music, and anything else they could think of. It got quite annoying but not as much as it would have if Trelawney had spoken.

After they finished eating their lunches, Hermione had to excuse herself. Her trunk wasn't fully packed and she had a few possessions more that she needed to retrieve from Ginny and Harry.

As she said this, McGonagall laughed. When Hermione asked why, Minerva replied "I didn't have to say you had the job, did I?"

Hermione left it at that, walked out to Hogsmeade, and bought a butterbeer.

Another thing she wouldn't admit? Missing butterbeer. She wasn't a huge fan of it but it was something that reminded her of normalcy and fun and her early days at Hogwarts. She would get to have them a lot now, being a teacher.

She sat down at a table and thought about how fast she jumped back into the Wizarding World. She thought about how she didn't feel ready to do it yet, how utterly frightening it was to her. And as bad as she felt about it, she thought about what Trelawney had asked. The fleeting thought passed, but came back just as quickly.

Trelawney had obviously made her fair share of false predictions. So why did she even think about it in the first place? If she was thirteen again, she would have scoffed at it. Maybe it was because of Harry's prophecy?

No, that couldn't be right…. Trelawney had predicted Harry's imminent death time and time again.

Hermione finished her butterbeer and left Hogsmeade. She apparated back home, gathered the things she needed from the Potters, and finished her packing.

Occasionally, her mind would float back to Trelawney.

It wasn't as if she hadn't made terrible predictions before. After all, she wasn't in a trance, she couldn't remember what was in a trance. But the look on Trelawney's face was serious. Maybe she would need to keep a close eye on her mother, just in case.

If anything, this was just an eye opener for Hermione. Her mother had her at thirty-five. Twenty years later, there could be some health problems. Yes, she would keep a closer watch on her.

But she would never tell Trelawney.


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: See Chapter 1

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The next day went as smoothly as it could.

Hermione finished planning for the first week of lessons. Flitwick had left most of his notes, so it was easy. She only had to plan how she would present her class. Nevertheless, she wanted to plan for the rest of the month but by the time she finished, she was tired. She had trouble working on a sleepy mind and would get nothing done. Her parent's needed to be picked up from the airport the next day.

So that's what she did.

Her mother insisted she use a Muggle car.

The ride to their house was slow, tedious, and rather boring. All of the stories they told of Australia she had heard a million times over. They were Monica and Wendell Wilkins again in Australia. All they did was visit their favourite spots and reminisce about when they were there. Those old memories were all Hermione heard, hence a tedious and boring and slow car ride.

She was glad to see them safely inside, help with some unpacking, and have a cup of tea with them. But her mother complained of jet lag and a stiff neck from the plane ride and went up to bed. Her father shortly followed.

By the time she got back to Hogwarts, it was very late and she was very tired. The next evening was the Welcoming Feast and she couldn't be more excited… or nervous.

Sleep would have helped calm her nerves for the next day, but she couldn't get any at all. She fell into a kind of lethargic state.

Therefore, when her father sent a letter to her by owl early in the morning as he wasn't against such things, she was already awake.

She opened the letter with foggy eyes and tried to focus on the writing. The lines on the Muggle paper were clear to her but the words were blurred. She stared at the paper, waiting for her eyes to focus, but they didn't. Not until the barn owl gave her a peck on the fingers.

She sat the letter down, went to her kitchen to get the owl a treat and gave it to him. The owl fluttered away and out her window. Her father must not want a reply.

She sat down on her bed, intent on reading this letter.

She had never been so tired in her life, even when she was hunting Horcuxes. Of course, she had thought the same then and would probably think the same thing sooner rather than later.

Finally, the words sharpened on the page.

_Hermione,_

_I believe your mother is sick. Right now it just seems like a cold or maybe the flu. She's tired, still has the crook in her neck, and has developed a headache. She seems to be cold, shivered a lot last night but isn't running a fever. She isn't worried about it regardless and says you shouldn't be either. I've tried to get her to go to a doctor today but I don't think she's budging. You know your mother. "If tea, whiskey, and God can't heal me, a doctor certainly can't," she said. A little ironic for a dentist? She didn't seem to think so. As a matter of fact, I got slapped. You remind me a lot of her, by the way._

_But she wanted to come and see you today before the feast and wish you good luck. Of course that's not going to happen. So I said I'd write you a letter and she said that I should tell the owl it was urgent with that shaky voice, you know the one._

_I hope that everything goes swimmingly at this job. Teach those kids a thing or two!_

_Love,_

_Your Dad_

Hermione smiled at the letter and set it down on her bedside table.

_BEEP, BEEP, BEEP!_

Hermione jumped, startled by her Muggle alarm clock. There were just some things that she couldn't stop using and her alarm clock was one of them.

Hermione got dressed, fixed her hair, and then headed off toward the Great Hall.

It wasn't until she saw Trelawney at the High Table that she thought about what she had said.

Trelawney's eyes watched Hermione take her seat at the far end of table, as far away from Trelawney's glare as she could possibly be.

Trelawney shook her head and frowned, then turned back to her breakfast.

Hermione made light conversation with Hagrid, her mind still on her mother.

"Is something the matter, Hermione?" he asked her, noticing her vacant look.

"No. I think I'm just nervous."

"Well yeh won't have ter be teaching tonight. There's nothing teh worry about."

"Thank you, Hagrid," she said, taking a sip of her water.

She left her plate empty, somehow not being able to stomach any food. Hermione remembered all of the times she told Harry how he needed to eat before an important Quidditch game or before any Triwizard Tournament task, just to name two. There were countless other occasions. _How ironic,_ she thought, just before she thought up her next idea. To pass some time, she would visit her mother. She could easily Apparate from Hogsmeade.

That's what Hermione did, Apparating straight into her old bedroom.

Her parents were in the bedroom, bickering. She could hear them from her position like she always could when they fought (which wasn't often, thank Merlin).

She walked into the hallway and knocked on their door.

Her father opened the door a crack and peeked through. He only needed to see the bushy hair to know who it was.

"Hermione, I wish you would let us know when you were coming. You're knocking scared us stiff," he said, opening the door to let her pass into the room, lit only with sunlight.

But it didn't look like her mother needed a fright to be stiff. Matilda looked unbelievingly ill, pale, even in the dim light, and tired, not to mention exasperated.

Hermione walked to sit next to her on the bed and grasped her hand. Her father followed, sitting next to his daughter.

When Matilda spoke, her voice was wispy. "Hermione, dear. Why are you here?"

"To visit my ill mother. Dad said you didn't have a fever so I'm not worried about infecting the students."

"You won't be late for the Feast?" Matilda, who had kept her eyes on the ceiling, looked her daughter in the eyes and raised her eyebrows.

"Of course not. That starts this evening. I have plenty of time."

"That's nice, dear. I could always use some support."

"You could also do with a nice healing," Hermione suggested.

"No, Hermione," her mother said sternly. "I could not."

"Why won't you let me?" Hermione asked.

"You know why," Matilda said. "Now drop it."

"Please you two," Marcus started. "Please don't fight. Your mother I just finished one. She doesn't need another. It'll only tire her out quicker."

Hermione spent the rest of her day with her parents. They didn't do much, just watched a few Muggle movies. By the time the last one had finished, Hermione had decided she was tired of sitting on their bed.

Her mother had insisted that all she had was a cold. Hermione knew better but she couldn't go against her mother. There was too much respect and trust in their relationship to go spoiling it. That was the last thing Hermione needed, in amongst all of this new change.

She went to the kitchen to get a glass of water for her and her mother, and noticed the time. She had better to back to Hogwarts. It was getting close.

She brought the glass of water up to her mum, foregoing her own. Then Apparated away.

The Welcoming Feast wasn't as bad as she thought it would be. Her sleep deprived mind was actually excited, not nervous that night.

However when she made it back to her rooms, her lack of sleep caught up with her. She barely made it out of her shoes before she flopped onto her bed and fell into sleep.

She couldn't be any happier that the next day was a Saturday.


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: See Chapter 1

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Hermione didn't bring up healing her mother again the previous day. Magic was a touchy subject. Matilda had made it very clear when Hermione was eleven that magic was unnatural. Yes, she loved her daughter and still did. But, when it came to magic, she preferred that Hermione keep it to herself.

Hermione woke up at 2:46 that afternoon. She remembered; she had looked at her clock. It was too late for lunch to be served, and she was starving.

She decided that she would see her parents again, check up with her mother, beg her to see a doctor, and then maybe scrounge up something to eat in the process. Hermione could have gone down to the kitchens but she still didn't like for the elves to do any extra work.

When she arrived at her old house, she could hear her parents fighting again. Hermione sighed then knocked on the bedroom door again. Her father answered and allowed her through.

Her mother had gotten worse. There was a rubbish bin, that hadn't been there before, close to the bed. Her mother must be vomiting now.

When Hermione asked, she got her answer. Her mother's symptoms had worsened: fever, joint pain and swelling, and, like she thought, vomiting.

Her mother refused to let Hermione heal her. Her mother refused to see a doctor.

"If things get worse tomorrow," she had said," take me to a doctor then. I don't want to see one. But what I do want? To ride this out for as long as I can. I want to rest after my trip, and this is just the flu."

Then, her father had spoken. "It's the trip that caused this, Matilda! See a damn doctor!"

When her mother finally went to sleep, Hermione asked the question she was dying to know the answer to.

"What were you two fighting about?"

He answered her under his breath. "About seeing a doctor. I can't make her go. Sometimes I just want to pick her up and throw her into the car." His voice got louder and louder as he spoke. "But I know that our rows are tiring her out and if I did that, she would probably die. I just don't see how she could be so stubborn! This is obviously killing her!"

Hermione leaned across the bed and hugged him. He was frustrated, no doubt, and a single tear had fallen from his eyes.

Again, Hermione thought about Trelawney.

"Maybe I should heal her why she's asleep," she said, not whispering.

"You will do no such thing," her mother said, having been awoken by Marcus's yelling.

"I don't care about how you feel about magic, Mum. I don't see why you keep resisting this. Just let me heal you."

"No, I will not. Shouldn't you be going back to work? You had some planning to do. Go."

Hermione knew the tone of voice her mother took with her, even if it wasn't at its loudest. That was the end of the conversation. Hermione said good-bye to her parents before Apparating away to Hogsmeade where she got something a little stronger than butterbeer to calm her down.

Hermione had the window open in her office, the sounds of birds chirping filling the silence in her office. She moved her eyes up from her school papers and looked, as she did anytime she had to think, out the window. She was thinking about how she was going to deal with a student that would end up being like Seamus Finnegan, blowing things up, when she was pulled from her thoughts by a knocking at her door.

She answered it, and there stood McGonagall and her father. Minerva ushered Marcus inside. Hermione moved out of the way. Then, McGonagall left and shut the door behind her leaving Marcus and his daughter alone.

Hermione thought she heard a cry from outside the door, but she couldn't be sure.

"Hermione," Marcus started.

Hermione furrowed her brow, confused. Why would her father be there at Hogwarts? Couldn't he have sent a letter?

As if reading her thoughts, he answered. "I wanted to speak with in person."

His hands were clasped in front of him so tight his knuckles were white. He stared at the floor as he continued.

"Hermione…. Your mother…. Well…. She was very sick… They think she picked it up in Australia... She had a – er… rare form of… of… meningitis… They think. And she refused… "

He stopped speaking, but Hermione needn't hear more. She collapsed into her desk chair and buried her face in her hands.

She couldn't breathe.

Everything was fading out. The chirping birds and the rustling of wind through the trees was gone.

There was nothing but silence.

She couldn't breathe.

Everything seemed so petty now. She should have just healed her mother.

Her thoughts stopped.

She couldn't breathe and there was only silence. Terrible, terrible silence.


End file.
